


Broken bottles and a lack of respect

by SabrinaAuthor



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Beating, Drinking, I'm not sure if the abuse tag fits here but I'm not gonna not include it, after november 16th, broken glass, last 5 character tags are minor, the fundy scene in the caravan with schlatt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabrinaAuthor/pseuds/SabrinaAuthor
Summary: The Fundy and Schlatt caravan scene but I wrote it and made it angstier :)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 84





	Broken bottles and a lack of respect

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This work includes drinking, blood, broken glass, and beating.

Schlatt was drunk. That much was undeniable. He lay on the floor of the caravan, his back propped up on the back of a chest. His suit was dirty and stained with blood, Fundy shivered as he noticed some that he knew was his. 

  


The floor was covered in empty bottles and broken glass. And there were too many people in the caravan, it was far too crowded and all of them stunk of blood. Maybe that’s why Fundy chose to remain on the top of the roof. 

  


His brain played back the memory of his own blood on the floor of the white house, mixed with the golden liquid. Maybe he stayed on the roof because he was a coward, a voice whispered from the back of his head. 

  


He didn’t have the energy to excuse it. 

  


The battle had all led to this. 

  


It felt,,, Wrong, to say the least. 

  


Everyone seemed to feel the same way, muttering amongst themselves about how pathetic he was. Schlatt was drunk, confused, and arrogant. Something that would never lead anywhere good. Had never led anywhere good beforehand. 

  


Dream tempted Wilbur to kill him once again, and no one seemed quite sure what to do. Schlatt held up another bottle, propping himself up so he could drink. He muttered something incoherent, as he forced himself to stand. 

  


“Fundy?” He asked, as he looked up. The harsh voice was filled with confusion and anger. Fundy was glad for choosing to stay on the roof of the caravan. “Fundy what are you doing here?”

  


Fundy tried to remain indifferent, seem more respectable in front of his peers. “Schlatt, are you fucking drunk?” He already knew the answer. Everyone did. 

  


He was shoved from behind, stumbling into the caravan. Barely even landing on his feet. He froze, right where he stood. 

  


“Come here you bitch.” The slurred voice was louder now, almost shouting as Schlatt lumbered forward, uncoordinated but unstoppable. His breath smelled of alcohol and his hands were stained with blood. 

  


A  _ smash _ of breaking glass as the bottle was broken over his helmet, showering his face in dirty glass. Everyone began yelling and he flinched backward, tripping over someone else and landing sprawled on the floor. 

  


“Listen, listen listen!” he shouted out panicked, stumbling backward further, crawling on the floor. Schlatt lunged forward with the broken bottle, 

  


Schlatt yelled something incoherent about dumbbells as he hit him again with the bottle. The eyes of his (Friends? Family? They didn’t really feel like either) watched from behind. No one tried to stop him. 

  


“Schlatt, you fucked up the country! You fucked up everything!” It felt like a million pounds was on his chest, compressing his lungs, making it harder to breath, harder to think. The glass remained in his fur, scratching into the skin deeper, not enough to lose a heart, but enough to sting, enough to draw blood. 

  


“You had a dream and I followed it! But you brought it downhill! You ruined it! You ruined everything!” His mouth tastes like copper, and his throat burns. He scrambles upward, standing again. “You ruined everything we had!” Schlatt brandished the bottle again.

  


The eyes watch from behind, everyone had fallen silent, just watching. Observing without helping. 

  


His father watched the scene impassively. His own  _ father _ didn’t even fucking care. 

  


Fundy couldn’t help but search the face of everyone around him. Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, Eret, even  fucking _ Niki _ . No one stepped in, no one even looked very fucking  _ worried _ . He felt tears burn in the corners of his eyes, blinking them away quickly as wave of anger rushed over him.

  


“I thought you were something!” He shouted out. His mouth tastes like death. He couldn’t help but remember the feeling of hope thrumming through his chest as he was given respect as an equal for the first fucking time. The feeling when he was given the opportunity to hold a position. 

  


“Yeah, yeah. I Am something. I’m what you’re not Fundy.” A chorus of gasps came from behind Schlatt. Sucking all the air out of the room. Fundy felt light headed. 

  


“What.” Fundy demanded. His head throbbed angrily, and fear lingered in his lungs, almost like it was waiting for him to beg. He couldn’t tell if it was worse to feel the anger or the fear right now. 

  


“What am I not?” It wasn’t really a question. But was it? The same thing had lingered in Fundy’s mind before turning into tears and frustration in the dark hours of night. Taking care to not get loud enough for anyone to notice. 

  


“I’m a man.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the work please be sure to leave a comment! They fuel me to write more! And check out some of my other works if you get the chance!


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